


What Happens in Pittsburgh Stays in Pittsburgh

by AngGriffen



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-17
Updated: 2008-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:43:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngGriffen/pseuds/AngGriffen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Actually, that would be a pretty good idea if his life were a porno. Which, unfortunately, it's not.</i>
</p>
<p>Or, the one where Grady Sizemore and Joe Mauer hook up over the 2006 All-Star Break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens in Pittsburgh Stays in Pittsburgh

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of an unfinished thing that was going to be novel-length. It was going to eventually be a romantic comedy because I can't write anything involving Joe Mauer that _isn't_ a romantic comedy. I have no intentions of finishing this, um, _ever_ , but, you know. I guess it could happen.
> 
> So I started writing this thing at some point in late 2006, because I was still kind of in love with Hafner when I wrote this. There are some, like, obvious things about the All-Star Break I totally messed up in writing this and never edited to sensibility, including, but not limited to "why the hell is Jason Bay at the hotel _in Pittsburgh_ , anyway?" Roll with it.

Just before Grady left for Pittsburgh, Hafner pulled him aside and, hand firmly on Grady's shoulder, cheerfully said, "Hey, punch Buehrle in the face for me, okay?"

Grady honestly wasn't sure if Hafner was kidding or not, but he didn't bother to ask for clarification. Instead, he did the only thing anyone really _could_ do when Hafner got in one of these moods, and went with it, throwing up a mock salute and nodding dutifully, hoping that Hafner wasn't _too_ serious about his request and would still speak to him when he came back to Cleveland, Mark Buehrle's face unpunched.

Grady had forgotten about the exchange until just now. 

Grady and Jason Bay are sprawled on the burgundy carpet on their floor of this Pittsburgh hotel, hiding from the cameras downstairs and drinking overpriced minibar liquor in the hallway when Mark Buehrle walks past, and Grady thinks, hey, if there's ever a time when it'd be a good idea to punch a dude for no reason, drunk in a hotel over All-Star break is probably not it, but it'd be a good story. He'd probably end up on Deadspin.

Buehrle's halfway down the hall to the elevators when Grady starts snickering. Over by the elevators, Buehrle turns, looking over his shoulder at Grady, kind of irritated, which only makes Grady laugh harder, sliding down the wall between the door to his room and Joe Mauer's, falling to the side, the back of his head landing against Jason's chest. In Grady's head, Buehrle's about to march over and pull a Joe Pesci -- _oh, so I'm some sort of clown here for your amusement?_ \-- and then Grady actually _will_ have to punch him in the face, and will end up being Hafner's best friend for life, and Hafner will re-sign in Cleveland just to hang out with Grady Who Punched Mark Buehrle In The Face for the rest of his life. They'll win the division for _years_.

Obviously, none of that happens, and the elevator dings, and Buehrle disappears into the elevator. At the same time, Jason shoves Grady off his shoulder and back against the wall. "What the fuck," Jason says.

"I just--" and Grady can't actually stop laughing because he's been drinking rum out of a teeny tiny little bottle, which is some _funny shit_.

Jason decides Grady's had too much, and leans over to take the hysterically small bottle from him. Grady uses his free hand to try to push Jason off, which only ends up knocking them both off balance, Grady sliding sideways until his cheek hits the carpet and Jason's elbow is jammed into his ribs, and he still can't stop laughing.

Grady is shaking with laughter, his face rubbing harshly against the rough carpet, and he's struck by the fear that he's going to have carpet burn across his face tomorrow, for the freaking _All-Star Game_ , on national television. Someone will end up asking him about it, and Grady will have to blame Jason, and people will get _completely_ the wrong idea, and it's so funny Grady's stomach is starting to hurt. He wonders if it's possible to laugh so hard he throws up.

"Oh. So the party's been out here the whole time," a voice says, and Grady lifts his head to see who said that, but instead whacks his chin on the top of Jason's head. Given the thoughts currently running through his head, Grady can only think that this _can't_ look good. He's suddenly afraid he'll never be able to stop laughing.

Luckily, Jason is sober enough to extricate his limbs from Grady's and settle back against the wall. "Hey, Joe."

Grady cracks open an eye through his laughter and Joe Mauer is standing in the threshold of his hotel room in a pair of flannel pants and a thin, tight grey tee-shirt. He looks about as rumpled as Joe Mauer is ever going to look, which isn't very. Grady's laughter slows just a bit as he becomes aware of how conflicted the entire female population of the Twin Cities must have been to find when naming their fanclub that the easiest rhyme for "Joe" is "ho." And then that train of thought catches up with Grady and he's snickering again. The world needs to stop being so funny, because his stomach _aches_.

Joe shuts the door to his room and pads over to sit down right next to Grady's head. He reaches over and pries the tiny bottle of rum out of Grady's slack hand. "What's up?" he asks, totally rolling with it. If Grady were in the seventh grade, he would ask Jason to ask Joe if Joe wanted to go steady with him. Instead, Jason says,

"I dunno. Grady thinks Buehrle's a funny dude."

"Buehrle _is_ a funny dude. You ever see him go tarp-sliding during a rain delay?" Joe says before downing the rest of Grady's rum.

"Hey!" Grady protests, shocked out of his laughing fit. "I paid for that!"

"The _league_ paid for that," Jason responds.

Joe holds up both his hands in surrender, making the most innocent face he can manage. "Sorry!" But the slight upward tilt to the corner of Joe's mouth belies his guilt.

"You just... you invited yourself to our party!" Grady protests, aware that he sounds both very drunk and very stupid, but not quite able to stop himself. "You're a party crasher. I'm going to tell the Minneapolis media that your whole 'nice guy' facade is a lie."

But Joe is smiling back at him, "Well, I could invite you to my party. Which is in my room, and is just a party of one, but this time it's my minibar."

Grady looks over at Jason, who actually looks a little confused, although Grady isn't quite sure _why_ \-- except for the part where Grady is apparently flirting with _Joe Mauer_ , but aside from that. Jason shrugs, "And there's a TV, too."

And maybe Grady wasn't flirting with Joe, because Joe turns that same orthodontist's-wet-dream smile on Jason and declares his hotel room superior to the hotel corridor for all time.

"But the hallway is where the _floor_ is," Grady points out.

Sure, that makes Joe call him a pussy and point out that his room _also_ has a floor, but it also means that Joe _and_ Jason end up pulling him up off the floor and manhandling him into Joe's hotel room and onto Joe's bed, and Grady is man enough to take the bad with the good sometimes.

*

After an hour and a half of pouring alcohol down Joe's throat while watching some terrible horror movie sequel, Joe is drunk and lying boneless on his bed, Jason is passed out on Joe's floor, and Grady is still drunk, but less _ridiculously_ drunk.

"He's okay, right?" Joe asks, rolling over on the bed to lie on his side facing Grady.

Grady lowers himself back on his elbows, half-lying down next to Joe on the bed, even though he knows that's just going to go nowhere good if he's not careful. "Yeah," Grady says. "Jay goes from sober to passed out in, like, sixty seconds."

Joe smiles, mollified.

A few minutes pass, and Grady watches the girls running through this weird collapsing labyrinth on screen. "What the fuck are we watching, man?" he asks.

He looks over at Joe, who answers by leaning over and kissing Grady square on the mouth. The pressure is too-hard, more like mashing his lips to Grady's than anything remotely sexy. Joe falls off balance, and he tries to catch himself, his palm landing hard on Grady's ribs, and who ever thought Grady'd get himself battered and bruised over the _All-Star Break_? Grady reaches up in self defense to push at Joe's shoulders, and Joe jerks himself backwards, eyes wide in the dim lighting from the television.

"Dude. Dude. It's cool," Grady says, trying to catch Joe before he freaks out and stops being a gay drunk. "Just... you were stabbing me in the ribs, man."

"Oh." Joe says, but a little of that impending freak-out fades from his eyes.

That thrumming _gonna get laid gonna get laid_ vibe is racing through Grady's brain as he pushes himself up, bracing himself on one hand and leans over to press his mouth to Joe's again. The kiss is better this time, but it's not like that's _hard_. Joe kisses like he's either used to kissing girls or used to always being in charge when he's kissing (or probably both), surging forward, trying to urge Grady back onto his back. Grady catches Joe's wrist in one of his hands, pushing it back to hold it against the bed, leaning forward into the kiss, challenging him.

Grady gets his bottom lip bitten softly for his trouble, and this is going to be good--going to be awesome. Joe is hot and muscled and just enough bigger than Grady that it's kind of a turn-on. Just sloppy and awkward enough that it's not too much. It's All-Star Break and it's going to be the All-Star Game and there's some part of "exhibition game" that's almost like a cheap hook-up with a guy Grady sees, tops, nineteen times a year, just isn't going to count, isn't going to be awkward. Is just going to be here and now and never again, an isolated island of hot gay sex in the sea that is Grady's actual life. With consequences and shit.

And then Joe's hand skates under Grady's tee-shirt, rough palm scratching over Grady's stomach, skating up along Grady's side just lightly enough to be ticklish. Grady licks his way into Joe's mouth just to get back at him. He skates the hand he has left on Joe's shoulder up to drag his bitten fingernails lightly along the line of muscle at Joe's neck, and Joe's shuddering, rolling forward, over, on top of Grady, their legs threading together, and this is the _best idea ever_.

One of Joe's hard, thick thighs slides between Grady's legs, rubbing up against him in a way that feels good now, but will feel better in about five minutes and without pants. Grady pulls his mouth from Joe's to nip at his ear, his jaw, his neck, while Joe's hips idly move, liquid slow, against Grady's.

Joe's hand is still between them, palm pressed tight against the skin of Grady's side, and when he slides his hand a little higher, tickling a little, Grady's breath catches and he groans low against the skin and cotton at the juncture between Joe's neck and shoulder. Joe's hips jerk a little against Grady's in response, but about a second later -- like he's on some sort of delay -- Joe jerks back, thighs still intertwined with Grady's but kneeling over him now.

It takes Grady, dulled by alcohol, a moment to blink up at Joe in confusion.

"He'll wake up," Joe whispers.

Grady wants to tell Joe that Jason knows Grady likes guys sometimes, and that he's pretty sure Jason doesn't _really_ care as long as Grady doesn't go out and buy shit covered in rainbows and try out for musical theatre or something. _Don't worry about it,_ Grady says in his head, _Even if he saw us, it's not like he'd go blabbing to the press. We're tight._

In real life, Grady shakes his head. "Seriously. I brought people home when we lived together back in A-ball. Fucker doesn't wake up for _jack_." It's kind of a lie, but Grady figures he and Joe will be sated and passed out in two hours when Jason wakes up from his alcoholic haze.

However, Joe doesn't look convinced. "Sorry, this is just --"

"My room's next door," Grady points out, because Joe is definitely the best-looking of his companions on the American League team, and his hips keep moving subtly, rubbing against Grady like he doesn't quite notice the minute movements, and his bottom lip needs to be bitten and then possibly _on Grady's dick_ sometime in the next hour or so.

Joe's tongue peeks out of his mouth, and he nervously licks at his lips before biting at them and glancing at the door, then back over at Jason.

Grady's starting to get uncomfortably hard from the sheer excruciating _tease_ of trying to get into Joe Mauer's pants.

"I'm pretty sure the only way he'd wake up is if we were, like... on _top_ of him," Grady says, hoping that will convince Joe. Then again, now that he thinks about it, fooling around with Joe on top of Jason? Not the worst idea he's ever had. Actually, it would be a pretty good idea if his life were a porno. Which, unfortunately, it's not. He files that one away in the spank bank.

Joe apparently had the same thought, because when Grady focuses back on Joe's, you know, _face_ , Joe has this sort of uncomfortable but interested look in his eye. Joe blinks, shaking his head a little. "You sure?" He's asking, but he sounds mostly convinced. Or at least like he wants enough to be convinced that he'll play along.

Grady doesn't bother to answer, instead reaching forward to grab the hem of Joe's tee-shirt, flattening a palm on Joe's stomach, and half-pulling, half-pushing Joe's shirt up and off him. Joe shudders a little, moves into Grady's touch, and Grady gets Joe's tee-shirt up to the point it's rucked up under his armpits before Joe leans back in to kiss Grady. Their kiss is drunk-sloppy, a little too wet, and still Grady's convinced it's pretty amazing, although that might be that Joe's hand is still under Grady's shirt, taking his turn at moving around clothing enough to expose skin. If they were feeling sensible, they could pull apart, each taking his own shirt off, but instead Grady lets his arms drift around Joe, fingers skating up along the skin of his back before catching the hem of Joe's shirt, and pushing it further up his back, getting his left hand tangled in the cotton, and not really caring because he has Joe's thighs tight around his left leg, just enough movement, enough pressure, and Grady really cares more about getting his _jeans_ off than his shirt.

Grady tugs the tee-shirt a little closer to off, and Joe breaks the kiss and pulls back enough to pull his shirt off the rest of the way. Grady takes the break to pull off his own tee-shirt, and when he can see again, dropping his shirt to the side of the bed that _isn't_ where Jason lies sleeping, he can see Joe, holding his own shirt in hand, watching Grady, lips just the slightest bit parted. He takes in the vision of all of that skin, and then Grady's eyes dart lower, Joe's obvious arousal tenting his flannel pants, and Grady's hand is moving forward, almost of its own accord, to brush against, then cup that heat.

A sharp intake of breath from Joe, whose hips shudder forward the slightest bit at Grady's touch. Joe's eyes flutter closed for a second, then blink open, glancing toward the side of the bed, checking to make sure Jason's still out. Grady increases the pressure of his hand, trying to gauge size, and maybe he was wrong about needing Joe's mouth on _his_ dick, because he's got thoughts about getting his mouth around _Joe's_ just now.

Grady untangles his legs from Joe's, keeping his hand moving slowly, lightly, as he pulls his body back to sit up, then uses his free hand to push against Joe's shoulder, guiding him to settle back against the bed. When Joe has himself half-settled, lounging backwards on the bed, Grady moves his hand, sliding it up to skate low on Joe's stomach for just a moment before pushing his hand beneath the flannel of Joe's pants and the cotton of his boxers to wrap lightly around Joe's cock. Joe lets out a small noise, then claps a hand over his mouth. Grady lowers himself down to lie on his side next to Joe, one of his legs draping over Joe's, as he leans in to catch Joe's earlobe between his teeth. Grady _wants_ to ask Joe if he's afraid he's going to get loud, if he normally is, or if he's just that scared Jason's going to wake up. But he knows not to test it. Instead he starts kissing his way back down Joe's neck before Joe's hand curls in Grady's hair, guiding him up, and they're kissing again. Again and again like maybe Joe doesn't get kissed enough, or just really likes kissing, or probably both.

Joe's other hand is busy unbuttoning and unzipping Grady's jeans, releasing that incessant pressure on Grady's cock, and Grady quickens the pace of his hand on Joe's dick in something like thanks. He's waiting for Joe to get his hand down the waistband of Grady's underwear and they'll just jerk each other off, but Joe's muttering something about getting out of their clothes, and Grady's with him on that. If they're going to do this, they'd better not do it halfway, furtively jerking each other off, coming in their pants.

Grady pulls his hand back out of Joe's boxers, and Joe hisses a little at the loss. Every time Joe catches himself making noise, he keeps glancing over to Jason, and Grady feels like he's just not doing his job here. Instead of worrying about that, Grady shucks his jeans, catching the glimpse of Joe pulling off pajama pants and boxers at once.

And then Joe's pulling back the covers on the bed and they're both climbing under the sheets, enough that if Jason does wake up maybe he'll be confused for a couple seconds, not that that's really why; sheets just feel better than scratchy hotel comforters. They're only halfway under the covers before Joe is catching his fingers in the waistband of Grady's underwear, suddenly emboldened by either their nakedness or the blankets, because he is pulling Grady's underwear down. Both Joe's hands are apparently needed for the task of divesting Grady of his briefs, and he's sliding down Grady's body as he pulls them further down on Grady's legs, stopping when they're caught around Grady's calves, but not quite allowing Grady enough room for movement to kick them off. Joe's hovering, his mouth at Grady's abdomen, and he lowers his head to drag his lips, tongue, teeth across the tight, thin skin there. Grady's jumping a little at the tease of it all, Joe's mouth so close, but so far away.

Grady lowers a hand to Joe's shoulder, urging him further down. Instead Joe lifts his head to look at Grady. "I... I haven't really..." Joe says, just loudly enough to be heard, and in spite of Joe's tentativeness earlier, Grady really hadn't been expecting to hear that. He'd kind of thought, from the hallway, that maybe Joe picked up dudes all the time. Like maybe the All-Star Game was just as much of a smorgasbord for Joe as it was in Grady's head. Like maybe he and Morneau had that townhouse together because they were fucking around -- but with allowances for hook-ups on the side, of course. Grady's mind is kind of perverse.

"Ever?" Grady can't help but ask, and the thought of a sloppy, amateur blowjob from Joe Mauer shouldn't be nearly as hot as it is.

Surprisingly, Joe just snorts back a moment of derisive laughter. "I just don't really like to," he answers.

And that's -- at least Grady can still spot family.

He finally manages to respond, "Shouldn't tease, then."

And all that gets him is Joe lowering his head again to drag his tongue down, down along Grady's stomach and over along Grady's hip, tracing musculature and bone, his cheek brushing against Grady's cock. Joe's hand slides up along the inside of Grady's thigh, the lightest brushing touch against his balls, and Grady makes a mental note to either kill Joe or run away with him to whatever European country will marry them after they're done.

Grady's hands land on Joe's shoulders, and he digs his bitten fingernails into Joe's flesh in what Grady will declare to the end self-defense.

Joe glances up again.

Grady's fingers scrabble against Joe's skin, and, "Jesus, get up here."

And Joe's sliding up to lie on his side next to Grady, and Grady's leaning over to kiss Joe again, since Joe seems to really be into that. In fact, now Joe's making the tiniest little noises in the back of his throat, and Grady's finally kicking his underwear off and rolling onto his side to face Joe and Joe's moving in, his dick hard, and rubbing against Grady's stomach, sliding next to Grady's own cock, and this is probably going to be sloppy and juvenile and _amazing_. Their legs twine together again, hips moving liquid against each other, as they kiss and kiss, still just a little too wet for Grady's liking, but Joe's letting out little gasped curses against Grady's mouth every time he pulls back to catch his breath, and it's really kind of amazingly hot.

Joe gets one hand back at the nape of Grady's neck, tangling in his curls, tugging lightly on occasion, and every time he does it, Grady bites at Joe's bottom lip and _fuck, fuck, this is so high school_ , but that's kind of what makes it fun.

"Hang on," Grady says softly against Joe's mouth, and pushing himself up on an elbow for just long enough to spit into the palm of his hand. He reaches down to line his cock up with Joe's, his hand wrapping around just enough to press them together, and Joe's fingers tighten painfully in Grady's hair. They shift, Joe rolling onto his back, Grady hovering over him, hips moving in tandem.

Joe pulls his hand from Grady's hair, and then both his hands are drifting along Grady's back, one coming down to brush over the back of his hip, fingers sliding over Grady's ass, pulling him in tighter. He's still alternating between kissing Grady and gasping out nonsense against Grady's mouth. It doesn't take very long before Grady comes, shuddering a little as Joe's cock slides against his; suddenly feeling like it's all a little too much.

And Joe's hissing "Jesus. Jesus. _Christ_ ," like Grady coming got him hot, or Grady coming _on him_ got him hot.

"Wait, wait," Grady mutters, pulling back because he's over sensitized and jumpy. He's reminded suddenly of how much he wanted to suck Joe's cock maybe five, ten minutes ago, and why the hell not, unless Joe's just not into oral in general, which would be a shame and a waste. Grady starts working his way back down Joe's body, tongue along his shoulders, down over one of Joe's nipples, which gets him an uncomfortable shift of Joe's hips. He's pressing one of his hands against Joe's stomach, fingers in his own come, which is definitely kind of hot in a weird kind of way, getting Joe _messy_.

"Hey. Hey," Joe manages to get out. "Thought you said no teasing."

"Not planning to," Grady says, as he shifts back further. So, he doesn't, just goes straight for it, kneeling between Joe's legs and curling forward to wrap a hand around Joe's cock, then leaning in, tongue at the very tip, and Joe's hand is in Grady's hair again. Grady closes his eyes and wraps his lips around the head, soft suction before sliding his mouth down along the shaft. Joe's hips shift up, fucking just a little into Grady's mouth; he's still a little too gone, too drunk to be perfectly polite, his hand on Grady's head a pressing down a little. Grady keeps a few fingers wrapped around the base of Joe's cock, but otherwise just goes with Joe's hips, Joe's hands on his head, working his hands and mouth together for the short time before Joe comes and Grady swallows almost automatically.

As Joe's breathing slows, Grady collects himself, moving off of Joe and back up the bed, rolling over onto his back. Is this the part where things get awkward or are they not sober enough for that yet? Grady doesn't really feel drunk anymore, but that might just be that he's starting to feel like he needs to take a nap.

The silence stretches on for a moment, and Grady pushes himself up onto an elbow, looking over to Joe. "Hey, Joe?" he says, wondering if he needs to worry about some sort of homosexual freakout. Bisexual freakout. I just messed around with a dude freakout. Whatever.

Joe blinks his eyes open, and replies, "Yeah. I'm gonna go to sleep now."

So they do.

*

When Grady wakes up, it is definitely not morning. Or, well, it _is_ morning by the official definition of "after midnight," but by that definition, the last time he was awake was also morning, so really, whatever. The point is that it is dark, and Jason is looming over him, tugging on his arm, saying, "Dude. Dude. Grady," at a volume barely above a whisper.

"Nngh?" Grady replies, unsure why he's being woken up at before-morning o'clock.

"Hey, uh. We... might want to head back to our own rooms, man," Jason says, voice quiet and a little rushed.

Grady blinks a couple times, before glancing over to the other side of the bed, and seeing the broad expanse of Joe Mauer's back. Oh. Right. That. He rubs at his eyes a little, then looks back to Jason. "Yeah, sure. Just -- I gotta find my pants."

Looking for his underwear would probably result in waking Joe up, so Grady just pulls himself out of bed and gets up to find his jeans. Whatever, Jason's seen it before, nothing exciting there.

"This a regular thing with you?" Jason asks from the floor where he's busying himself finding his own shoes.

Grady finds his jeans and settles back down on the edge of the bed pulling them on. "What? Me and Joe?" he asks.

"Hooking up with other ballplayers," Jason clarifies as he pulls on a sneaker.

"Not really," Grady says as he zips up, shifting uncomfortably in his jeans. He reminds himself that he'll be out of them once he gets back to his room.

"You and Joe?"

Grady leans over to find his tee-shirt, which is lying on the floor underneath Joe's. "No." He pulls the shirt on over his head, and once it's on and he's rearranging the shirt, pulling the hem down, he looks over to Jason, who's shaking his head a little. "What?"

Jason busies himself tying his shoe. "I just think you need to be more careful."

Grady snorts. "Is this the 'don't sleep around' thing or the 'don't sleep with guys' thing?" he challenges. Grady really wishes Jason would just _stop_ already. It's great that he found love and marriage with Kristen, but that's just not what's going to happen for some people. At least not yet.

Instead of answering, Jason pulls on his other shoe.

Grady picks up his own socks and shoes, and sits down next to Jason on the floor. "Look. I wish you wouldn't make such a big deal about it."

They sit in silence as Jason finishes tying his other shoe, and Grady pulls on his socks. Finally, Jason asks, "If it was someone other than me in the room. Would you have...?"

And it takes Grady a second to realize that Jason's not being egotistical. This isn't about that anymore. It's Jason actually being concerned. Like Jason is sometimes. And Grady honestly, honestly, isn't sure. It would depend who all it was who wasn't Jason passed out on the floor. Instead he just says, "Well, it was. So don't worry about it," as they let themselves out of Joe's room.

Grady feels kind of like a jerk just disappearing on Joe in the middle of the night like this, but, well, he figures Joe will understand; he's not dumb.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I kind of made you a bad kisser, Joe.


End file.
